The General, TheColonel, theirChild and His Mother
by A.M. Richardson
Summary: She thought she had her life mapped out. Then came 360 pitch and yaw. Epilogue/Sequel to ‘Naquadah Tipped Warheads & Banana Smoothies’
1. Chapter 1

Title: The General, The Colonel, their Child and His Mother

Author: AM Richardson

Category: SG1 Complete Story. Set in the TV Universe up to S9 then Alternate Reality after that, Future Fluff

Rating: K (Teens)

Content Warning: Fluff

Season: AU S9

Spoilers: Umm.. loads as in vague mentions of past missions but nothing specific.

Archive: Sure!

Summary: Epilogue/Sequel to 'Naquadah Tipped Warheads & Banana Smoothies'

Disclaimer: Just playing, not mine, if you're looking to sue, you're looking in the wrong place!

Status: COMPLETE - 1 of 4

Summary: She thought she had her life mapped out. Then came 360 pitch and yaw.

Copyright (c) 2008 AM Richardson

Author's Notes: Thank you to Gwen, Tracy And Lily who read it before you did and made the best suggestions – any mistakes left are my own.

And this is for Gwen, because purely and simply we really are sisters separated by an accident of a large ocean :D

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If he tried really hard, he could just about remember her.

The smell of her after they made love, her perfect teeth (damn her) and the adorable crows feet when she smiled.

When they began beating the crap out him again, he wondered if he would remember her when he was dead.

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Sam could cope with the midnight feed, the 2am feed, the 6am feed, but the 4am one was a killer.

Huddled in her (too expensive for what it is) Bloomingdale's nursery chair at four am complete with afghan throw barely covering her cold legs, a nagging bladder and sucking baby was not the picture of maternal bliss that she had hoped for, largely because she was terrified of falling asleep and dropping the kid.

One moment of inattention and whoops, Baby is plunged onto a worryingly unforeseen sharp edge of said Bloomingdale's chair and before she would know it, a screaming 911 call and an enquiry by the Child Protective Services would follow.

Two nights of that and Jake slept in her room. Occasionally he even made it as far as his bassinet rather than her bed; screw what the advice said about co-sleeping (and she should know, because she'd read it all) Jake was not their child, he was hers and if mom and kid got a better night's sleep together, then in her bed he slept.

Sam was also beginning to realize that the best advice she had heard was - not to listen to any advice. During those dozy quiet hours with Jake firmly latched on and feeding happily, she would gaze over the curve of her breast into his half closed eyes and feel her child's needs.

She also wondered if she was going to be able to exist without a nursing brassiere again.

Any worries that Sam had over post natal depression had vanished along with the baby manuals the day after his birth. She could clearly remember the moment of waking up next to him in the infirmary. Struggling upright, she managed to roll off the hospital bed with her tender undercarriage and pull the bassinet nearer for a better view. Her son. Their son. His face was so perfect as if carved from an apple, with sweeping eyelashes and tufts of ginger hair, with Jack's forehead and a mouth that was her own. He was perfect. She was so incredibly lucky and she knew it.

Nothing had really prepared her for the almost constant state of fatigue that she would find herself existing in. The first three days while she recovered in the infirmary had been manageable. More than manageable. There was literally a garrison of volunteers to watch over her child while she showered, ate and dressed. All she had to do was try to get the hang of breastfeeding. Blood clots on her nipples and a crying child ensured she would find the Best Position even if it meant dangling upside down from some bizarre Goa'uld torture device while being prodded with pain sticks.

Luckily, she didn't have to go to such extremes but at home there was just her and Jake.

Jake's needs.

Jake's demands.

Jake's diapers.

On the fifth day, she called the infirmary in a total state of panic convinced Jake must have miraculously walked over to the kitchen and accessed the cabinets to commandeer the peanut butter jar because that stool surely wasn't normal! It took Becky Rush ten minutes to reassure Sam that it was okay for a newborn's excreta to look like that.

Bring on the pain sticks.

When he cried for the first time, Sam thought it was quite bearable, rather sweet, actually.

How moronically naive! By day six, Jake could reduce her to a gibbering wreck in just two minutes if she couldn't get her nursing brassiere unclipped fast enough. She longed for a nice hot bubble bath to soothe her bruised body parts but her toilette had to be conducted as quickly as possible in between feeds. Twice she had washed her hair after the 2am feed that finally finished at 2:52 am just because that was when Jake seemed to sleep at his deepest. She was determined not to fulfill the stereotype of the new mother that stayed in her dressing gown all day but a couple of times she wore the same clothes that she had on the day before just because they were still flung over the nightstand where she had left them the previous evening.

There had been a vague plan of a DVD fitness program, to tide her over before she could get to the gym, take advantage of the outrageously expensive daycare and attain the sylph like figure that she had in her 20s, of course. But the DVD was gathering dust next to the TV, still snuggled in its wrapper because mom was too tired to open it. Her pre-baby figure was slowly reappearing but not as quickly as she would have liked. She certainly knew her uterus was getting back into shape judging by the strange things it got up to while she was nursing.

Adrenalin rush? Oh yeah.

A couple of times, she had ventured out into the November chill, her child muffled up like a Michelin man, comfortably ensconced in his newborn baby Klik'n'Lok seat and pushed in his stroller to the local store where a variety of women would bill and coo over him and Sam – to her own amazement - loved it.

She was mystified by the preponderance of baby stuff that was dual and multi-purpose, and just in case you weren't sure, the manufacturers reminded their customers by including both tasks in the product's name:

Klik'n'Lok

Sit'n'Play

Ride'n'Sing

Sam wondered if the baby store had a Wine'n'Chocolate aisle because that would be infinitely more effective at getting her child to sleep than a Musik'n'Lights Dreamz Maker.

Once she had screwed her courage to the sticking post, fitted Jake's car seat into her Volvo (not without some language that would have made her own mom wash her mouth out with soap and water) and drove to the Mall in downtown Colorado Springs, singing all the dumb songs she could think of, _My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean_ and _Saturday Night_ by the Bay City Rollers being Jake's favorites. By the time she got there, her son had filled a particularly sludgy diaper with more mire and Sam ended up changing him in the car and giving herself a spectacular backache while she was at it. After ten minutes of wandering around the Mall listening to muzak, she quit and found she couldn't get home fast enough.

Jake was screaming for a feed even before she turned into her street and it didn't help that the elderly lady who lived next door, (who just happened to be pruning her hedge at the moment Jake used his little lungs to their fullest capacity), helpfully called out that babyboy just needed a hug from his mommy when Sam was attempting to divest her vehicle of all the baby stuff that had become absolutely vital while trying to soothe her grizzling child. Although she had made it up the steps with gear and baby, unlocking the door proved awkward and yes, she had ensured she bumped her child's head on the door frame while blundering through. She could swear she could feel Grandma Hedge Clippings' eyes boring right through her back.

One hour later, after a rapid breastfeed that hurt like hell, Sam could barely drag herself off the sofa to do something with all the mess she had made when the phone rang.

The cheery "Hi Sam, it's Daniel, how's it going?" was enough to send her off into a crying fit that lasted until he pushed his way through the front door debris and promised her that next time she went to the Mall, she would be accompanied by Daniel Jackson, Doctor of archeology, part-time nanny and full time friend.

And no, she did not have post-natal depression.

She was just beat.

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The next day was a Wednesday

The date was November 21st, 2007.

It was a day that Sam would remember for the rest of her life.

An uncooperative arm flailed back and forth forcing a smile out of his exhausted mom while Sam tried to detain the sprightly limb and insert it (without breaking a delicate ulna) into a jaunty sailor style top that would stay white for all of five minutes.

"Seriously, why is so much baby stuff white? It's such a dumb color, isn't it, Jake?"

She just had to stop and gaze one more time into her son's eyes. "You're so beautiful!"

A kiss onto his chest followed. "Love you, child of mine," and she tossed her ponytail back from her shoulders. She really must get her hair cut.

Her doorbell rang.

Ah. The dilemma. Should she leave him happily gurgling away on the floor, or dare she risk picking him up and causing an objection? She opted for the former. Trotting over to her front door and pushing aside the privacy curtain, she could see it was Daniel – why hadn't he used his key?

She clicked open the deadlocks, threw open the door and spun back to her kicking child.

"Hey! You're early! Come on in, I'm just finishing changing His Majesty!"

There was no need to fear; Jake had not yet attained the skill of rolling over at 15 days old and the 2cm down to the floor had not been breached. He pedaled his long legs and cooed as Sam bent over him to pop up his blue sailor's pants. "There you go, all done!" She smiled and scooped Jake up to turn him around to see his Uncle Daniel..

..who was standing unnaturally still with the SGC Families Liaison officer behind him.

Her arms came about her child's body to draw him in. "What? What is it? You've found his body?"

Jake began to root for a feed and dribbled down her left breast.

Daniel half held his arms out, his eyes searching hers. "Here, let me take him and I'll explain."

The Mother's arms closed in a little more tightly, causing the baby to fuss. "Whatever it is, just tell me."

The one thing that had got Sam through those long nights of feeding and solitude were memories of her child's father and the final acceptance that she was bringing their son up as a single parent; she had to hold it together for the life they had made.

She had a feeling her plans were about to undergo a 360 faceplant.

The FLO stepped forward with her mouth opening to start a little speech – Sam was trying to remember her name – Kelly, Kelsey, something kute beginning with a 'K' because the girl was barely past her mid-20s; what was the base thinking of employing someone who hadn't experienced life at all in Sam's subjective and skewed opinion. "Not you, him. Daniel, you tell me."

She seemed to have activated her rude gene.

Screw it, she'd apologize later.

She repeated. "Daniel?"

Jake began to cry and Daniel gestured abruptly to the sofa. "Tell me," she hissed.

Daniel looked as though he was about to join her son in his lament.

"We've found him."

Sam's living room dipped and swirled.

"He's injured but conscious and asking for you."

Her heart stopped. Her heart was brought to a standstill and she gave her last air to their son with a whisper-kiss breathed onto the boy-hair that was straight from his father. "W-Where?" she stammered.

"At the SGC."

360.

Pitch and yaw.

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"Sam you don't have to do this," Daniel repeated for what seemed like the gazillionth time as he twisted in the front passenger seat to face her in the rear.

Rain pattered onto the roof of the staff car as it snaked its way through the residuals of bumper-to-bumper traffic on the I-25, the FLO (actual name Kirsty) driving and Sam fiddling with one of Jake's socks as he lay asleep in the baby-seat.

"I know." Her gray response matched the November weather; she didn't wonder if the rain would turn to sleet later.

Her lover.

The father of her child that he knew nothing about.

Back from the dead.

Why wasn't she jumping for joy?

Daniel cleared his throat in a manner that politely suggested please-look-up-and-see-me.

She complied, her thoughts in freefall.

"As I said, we told him you were on leave and that we weren't sure where you were; we didn't lie to him; we've said nothing about Jake. It was Lam's suggestion and I think it was sensible. He was pretty cut up about Ferretti and Garcia. You can leave this until you get your head around it; Jack has been in and out of it since Carolyn stuck him with an IV."

He sighed at her non-committal nod.

Sam watched the rivulets chase down the fogged car window, desperately trying to process what Daniel had told her while she sat stunned on her own sofa.

Several weeks ago she had endured a turbulent ride to Fort Leavenworth to work with prisoner S-250-498-Z, otherwise known as Derek Bricksdale to locate a spare Alkesh in orbit around the moon. The frequency harmonics of the shield seemed too random to be a standard cloak and Sam's old team at area 51 were mooting the possibility of it being a homing beacon.

They were right.

Teal'c, Cameron and SG-3 had activated the signal and the Alkesh flew them directly to a remote moon in a system on the edge of Lyra being used as a secret base by Ba'al. Jack's worst nightmares come true. Sam knew full well how the memories of his first imprisonment had ensured some very deep psychological scars – she had held him while he moaned and cursed in his sleep and didn't dare suggest the psychs. For him to have been captured by that rat-bastard again and held for all this time - Sam couldn't imagine what he'd been through. Actually, yes she could; she'd read the file from before, she just couldn't imagine how he had coped.

It also seemed that Ba'al was not actually the Ba'al. He had been playing god in more ways than one because the SG team had encountered two fully grown Ba'als and one more in the final process of regeneration in a cloning facility that looked as though it had been utilized recently.

Jack had been unexpectedly located thanks to his sub-dermal transponder – one of McKay's geeky Star Trek ideas. Apparently the signal was singing like a songbird as soon as the Alkesh exited hyperspace, so that was one more she owed the irritating Canadian.

Saved my baby.

Saved my lover.

From thereon it was a standard S&R, complicated by the fact that General O'Neill had some sort of serious spinal injury, the details of which Daniel didn't know.

He did know that Jack couldn't move his legs, let alone walk.

O'Neill was recovered with a minimum of fuss and firepower and transported to a nearby Stargate where two medics had accompanied him back to the SGC leaving SG-3, Cam and Teal'c to find out what else Ba'al had been up to and pilot the Alkesh home at the end of the mission.

Job done, no sweat, and they continue where they left off.

Only they couldn't, could they?

Jack badly injured, physically and... mentally?

And herself? She had given birth to a child he had no knowledge of and had come very close to betraying him in the worst way.

Things couldn't be more different. Or messed up.

The desire to unclip Jake from his seat and make off down the parkway was intense.

The hand on her knee was warm. "Sam. I meant what I said. No-one will expect you to confront this today."

She gave Daniel her full attention for the first time that day.

"Maybe not, but I do."

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	2. Chapter 2

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It was only as they approached the CMC checkpoint off the mountain road that Sam remembered that she had left her ID at home; for the first time ever in ten years. There was the necessary but irritating delay while verbal permission was granted to allow her and Jake access to the base, facilitated by the fact that the guard commander was an old-timer who knew her by sight. Getting Jake down to the palm scanning station was made much easier by Daniel's bright idea to bring along his stroller. The baby was transferred out of the car and onto the stroller without even a murmur and Sam began to give credence to the phrase 'Klik'n'Lok'.

As she reached for the ergonomically shaped handle that You And Baby Will Love, Daniel grabbed it and winked. "You've done enough pushing for this one."

She couldn't even raise a smile.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Trudging behind Daniel and the FLO as they bustled their way through the corridors, she noticed Daniel's grin getting exponentially bigger the further they progressed into the complex as various members of personnel stopped to coo over Jake.

Sam was able to feign gracious acceptance of their compliments and tried to keep her mind off her lover languishing several floors below. It wasn't their fault they had no idea about him – the blast doors kept most things out for a while at least, including news of the return of a highly decorated, highly missing (believed killed) Air Force officer. This was not how she wanted to show off her newborn baby – she wanted to have visited the beauty parlor and dress her son up in his finest – today she had barely even managed to pull a brush through her ponytail and Jake's sailor top was looking distinctly dribbled upon.

By the time they were shown into a small room near the infirmary via a junior nurse who Knew Nothing, her mouth was dry, her head was pounding, and even getting over to one of the institutional chairs was difficult. Daniel hung around behind her like some human form vulture, the FLO was installed in the seat next to her while Sam studiously avoided Kirsty's attempts to hold her hand. When Carolyn Lam finally marched through the door, Sam's jaw muscles were fit for bursting.

She didn't miss the silent exchange between the two doctors.

_Is she okay? _

_I have no idea. _

Lam was typically all business, something that some of the base personnel found intimidating and cold, but Sam revered smart women who knew their jobs, so Lam was held high in her estimation. The doctor gestured at the FLO with her thumb: _shift your ass, honey._

A burble of Sam-hysteria threatened to burst its way to the surface.

Occupying the now vacated seat next to her, Carolyn cleared her throat. "The CT & my external examinations have led me to determine that General O'Neill has an untreated slipped spinal disc caused by a blunt trauma to the L4-L5-Sacrum area; he was hit with a staff weapon while attempting to escape. This appears to be mimicking a class D incomplete spinal cord injury. As well as loss of sensation and motor function below the point of injury, General O'Neill is experiencing further complications; primarily disturbance to his bowel and bladder function. There appears to be no indicators of the mental disturbance that the General experienced while be incarcerated by the Goa'uld Ba'al before."

She paused long enough to take a breath and wave a dismissive hand at Kirsty who had once again opened her mouth to speak. "I have General O'Neill's permission to reveal these details therefore you may have no concerns regarding patient confidentiality."

She continued as the FLO closed her mouth and flumped back in her own chair; evidently Doctor Lam could read minds on the side. "There are some red flag symptoms, i.e. intense pain and I am concerned that pressure is being exerted on the nerve roots in the cauda equine; the spinal cord. I have requested the MRI unit at the Academy Hospital to be made available and a myelogram. At the moment the priority is to stabilize him; although he has several other minor injuries, they are mostly healed and there are no indicators of cachexia."

"No indicators of what?" piped up Kirsty. She really was so young.

"They didn't starve him," offered Daniel quietly.

Sam watched as Lam chewed the inside of her cheek and raised her delicate eyebrows; there was more. "I've immobilized the area affected and prescribed pain relief. I suspect the treatment regimen will involve surgery, physiotherapy and possibly chiropractic intervention. I will authorize his transfer to the Academy Hospital's excellent spinal unit once I'm satisfied he can be moved without further risk. Do you have any questions?"

The last sentences had run on so quickly that Sam was still trying to process it all.

"So, the General is paralyzed below the waist?" clarified Kirsty.

Lam nodded. "Yes."

"But slipped discs are treatable as you say; he'll recover now he's receiving treatment, right?" Daniel cut in.

The doctor held his gaze a moment before replying. "Usually, but from what we can determine, General O'Neill sustained this injury four months ago. Worst case scenario; the damage could be permanent."

Jackson let it slip. "Oh, shit."

Sam's vision had been focused on her snoozing child, but now it had blurred. Jake had morphed into a misty blob, like one of Nirrti's genetic experiments gone horribly wrong. Jack would hate being paralyzed; the man was never still, how had he gotten through those days?

Screw what Carolyn said about 'no mental disturbance' – Jack was a past master at dodging the psychs. Crippled mentally and physically – what sort of mess was he in? Could she handle that with a newborn baby? Was she so lacking in love and moral fiber that she could not contemplate a future with a disabled lover?

Sam felt a cool hand on her wrist; Carolyn was taking her pulse. She calmly extricated her skin from the doctor's grip and folded her hands in her lap. Carolyn's voice was low enough for the conversation to be deemed private even though the other two people in the room could hear what was being said. "You may have been discharged from my infirmary, Colonel Carter, but I still have a duty of care towards you and your infant." She underpinned the meaning with a Hard Stare. "General O'Neill has not been informed of your arrival and I can keep it that way."

Sam closed her eyes to focus on priorities_. In multi-task environments, prioritization is the key to success._

Her son. Her son was the priority – Jack would be very well cared for and Sam knew Carolyn could stall him with the truth as to where she was. Jake needed her to be mom right now, not go waltzing off to play nursemaid to his father. She contemplated the sleeping infant nested in his stroller beside her, his rosebud mouth working in his sleep - he had been asleep for a couple of hours; why wasn't he waking up?

As if on cue, Jake shifted under his blanket, screwed up his face and began to cry.

And to her horror, so did she.

Forty-seven minutes later Jake's wails were silenced by yet another feed and she regained her composure, evinced by the fact that her hands barely trembled as she checked her breast pads and buttoned up her blouse.

She actually felt a bit better and was almost enjoying Carolyn and Daniel hovering in the background whispering words like 'shock' and 'stress' and 'hormones' while she pretended to play peek-a-boo with her once-again sleepy son.

Weeping and wailing had achieved two more things. Firstly, the FLO had taken the hint and high-tailed it outta dodge, ably encouraged by Dr. Lam, bless her. Secondly, Daniel had brought her the largest hot chocolate she had ever seen, complete with whipped cream and bedecked with crushed M&Ms. He must have slept with the mess hall sergeant! She sipped at the liquid, careful to hold the mug well away from her infant's delicate body. Delicate? Who was she kidding! So much for breastfeeding producing skinny babies; Jake was built like a miniature sumo wrestler, with long legs like his father's.

His father.

He had to right to know - and not just when Samantha Carter felt like telling him.

Draining the liquid, Sam plunked the mug down on the chair next to her.

"I'm ready," she proclaimed, as dramatically as she could.

It didn't take long to entrust her son to the care of his Uncle Daniel and following Carolyn Lam and her 'You don't have to tell him about Jake today' placates, she strode along the gray tubular corridors and concentrated on the green line. Green. Green is good. Green for go. Green for the rolling Minnesotan landscape that she had come to love just as much as her lover.

'C' corridor on Level 21 was like home – she fancied she knew every twist and turn, every imperfection in the plasterwork, and the infirmary was practically a stone's throw from her own lab… with lockable blast doors that she could pull closed against the world. She had paced those corridors a million times, engaged in mental calculus, trying to clear her head after an all-nighter and praying for yet another friend or loved one languishing behind hospital privacy curtains.

She waited a moment while she heard a brief and muted exchange between doctor and patient – and an exclamation of joy that unmistakably came from Jack which set her heart thumping.

And here she was.

And there was another privacy curtain to be pushed aside.

And then there he was; pale and strapped at a strange angle to some sort of spinal board, IVs snaking out from rumpled sheets and blankets and his attention momentarily distracted by Dr. Lam as she checked the EKG monitor.

They may not have starved him but he definitely looked much thinner.

His hair had grown, hanging dark and limp around his badly-shaved face.

Her legs rooted to the spot, her tongue frozen.

Their eyes met.

"Sam."

Just her name spoken aloud by him was enough to turn her stomach inside out.

And he smiled at her, that deep creased, crinkly-eyed smile that he bestowed on people so rarely.

Then he chuffed. "Well, the only thing that's keeping you there is the force of gravity and that is something that you, Samantha Carter, know all about." He raised his arms --

-- and she crossed the small patch of linoleum and was wrapped in them in 0.4 milliseconds.

"Oh God, Jack."

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Later, she couldn't say how long they had held each other but when she had finished shaking into his right shoulder and he had stopped murmuring into her hair, Dr Lam had gone and she was sure that several hours had gone by.

They parted, hands to each other's face, eyes locked yet searching.

He spoke first. "I had a million things that I wanted to say to you, but hey, it's all - balderdash."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Balderdash?"

He nodded slowly. "Balderdash. Eighth grade Scrabble Champion, Saint Viator High School."

Her right hand began to finger a new scar across his left temple that disappeared under his hair. He needed a good wash. "You're making that up."

She noticed a glitter in the chocolate depths of his mesmerizing eyes. "Am not."

Letting out an amused breath, she began to shake her head. Memories of a magnifying glass and a fishing trip invite crept into her mind.

He pushed back her bangs and she suddenly realized he had noticed that he wasn't the only one who had grown his hair during their separation. "Am not! Saint Viator High School, on East Oakton Street. They loved me."

"We're talking co-ed here, aren't we?" As if she didn't know about Jack from the Windy City.

She felt some loose strands being tucked behind her ears and his hands follow the hair down to her shoulders. "God, Sam, you look so good."

Sam wanted to tell him then; she wanted to take his hands in hers and kiss them and explain that she was still on a hormonal high from childbirth and, by the way, did he know he had another child?"

She settled for turning her face into the long, lean fingers that were so welcomingly familiar and so horribly missed. Feeling his skin slide along her exposed ear, she let out a little moan and then stiffened when she realized what he was doing; her hair was loosed from its scrunchie and flopped down her back as he pulled it out.

He seemed to have trouble averting his gaze and clearing his throat, he waved an arm in the direction of the monitoring equipment. "I know I don't look so hot myself; I can't feel a thing below my groin, but the doc says there's a good chance of recovery and I guess the fact that I'm not flat out, stapled to a Stryker frame means she must be telling some truth."

Sam nodded. "I know. It'll be okay. I'm here now."

They were staring at each other; taking in every line and crease, every scar and imperfection new and old – it was then that she noticed his pupils looked a little drugged-up. Maybe she should leave it for another day when he was less vulnerable?

His hands came to rest on his tangled sheets and then began to fiddle with her purloined velvet hair accessory. "You look so good."

Smiling, she reached out and tucked a strand of his own hair behind an ear. "You said that."

Catching her hand as she pulled back, his gaze was intense. "I mean it. I mean it like I never have."

His palm was warmer and smoother than she expected. "Actually, I don't think you've said that to me before."

The forehead creased and the jaw worked. "I haven't?"

"Nuh-uh."

He sighed dramatically. "I'm such a dumbass."

Screw vulnerability; he was lucid enough.

"Sam-"

"-Jack, I have something to tell you."

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What was the protocol for a situation such as this? There were no guidelines to inform a gentleman of his illegitimate child born while he was being held captive the wrong side of Andromeda.

She did the best she could.

One hand (the one that didn't have the IV), in both of hers, held firmly and earnestly. Five sentences; short and bittersweet. She knew them by heart because she had practiced in her head for months.

_I have something to tell you that will be a shock; you need to prepare yourself._

_When you left for that mission there was something you didn't know, simply because I hadn't had a chance to tell you yet._

_I knew we had gotten pregnant sometime around that Groundhog Day Hop we went to at Petersen._

_When you were declared MIA and the days dragged into weeks and months, I had to make a decision to tell people and carry on without you._

_I missed you so much and that was the hardest thing I've ever, ever had to deal with in my life._

He stared.

And stared.

And stared some more.

"You - you've had a baby?" To his credit, he only blinked twice.

What else could she say? _Ah, no, just joshin'_

"Yes."

He looked her up and down as she perched awkwardly on his bed trying to avoid jogging the spinal board. "When?"

Okay - she didn't expect that. "Two weeks and two days ago."

Jack broke eye contact and she noticed he was suffering from some sort of strabismus as his gaze flicked rapidly to and fro while he contemplated a chink in the privacy curtain. She had to swallow when she realized that there was no moisture left in her mouth. This was too soon. He was still in shock or suffering from PTSD? Maybe she should get Carolyn…

His eye line swung rapidly back, totally focused. "Are you okay?"

It was her turn to blink. "Uh, sure. Yes. We both are, Lam says it was a straightforward birth, but lemme tell ya, she lies."

Her nervous grin faltered as a stony expression came back at her. Oh no - he was upset, angry even, he didn't want another child! OH NO.

Sam began to release his hand as she totally refused to cry. It would be okay; she had faced the prospect of raising their son by herself and of course she could still do that, her only regret was that Jake would miss out on so much when he needn't. She began to slide off the bed -

- to be waylaid by his hand on her arm and a gentle; "Where are you going?"

"I.. I.." Once again the power of speech had deserted her.

His face was now one of concern. She was so confused! What was happening here? Struck mute, she stood in a daze trying to read her lover's - ex-lover's? - thoughts.

He spoke again; "I thought I heard a baby crying earlier, but then I wondered if it was the class A drug trip."

She released a shaky breath. "Oh yes; that's His Majesty, I can't seem to keep him fed," she tailed off.

Tears formed in Jack's eyes. Suddenly she did not know where to look as the grip on her arm tightened.

"We had a boy? We have a son?" He looked... joyful, surprised and - redeemed. Her head bobbed up and down of its own accord while she tried to remember to keep breathing.

He gestured between them. "We…?"

Her laugh was short and tense. "Yes!"

"I'm not in Oz, right?" His eyes glistened and the cheek dimples were getting deeper.

This time her giggle was a little more relaxed and she removed his hand from her arm (his grip was beginning to hurt) and dared to pass her lips over it. "No, this isn't an alternate reality. As far as I'm aware," she added as a precaution.

The next question made her head swim and her heart soar.

"Can I see him?"

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"He wants to see him," Sam announced to the two doctors that had obviously been talking about her before she entered the waiting room judging by their hand-in-the-cookie-jar expressions.

She crossed her arms to reinforce the fact that she knew what she was doing even though she absolutely did not.

Daniel did his owlish blinking thing. "Are you sure about that?"

"No," she acknowledged, "But it's too late because I've told him. Carolyn, do you have any objections from a medical standpoint?"

To give the doctor credit, she wasn't fazed. "Minimal barrier precautions to protect them both and I suggest you keep it short for today, otherwise no." It was as though she entirely expected the scenario to play out like this.

Picking up her son from his car-seat-come-sleeper caused such a powerful sense of maternal protectiveness – she could have held him in her arms for an eternity but now it was time to share him with the other love of her life. She just hoped that the sensation of tight nipples she was currently feeling didn't mean she would start leaking breastmilk – now that might really ruin the moment.

Carolyn excused herself, leaving Daniel and Sam alone. Her friend bent down to kiss her child as he nestled in his mother's arms and then leaned forward to kiss her. On the cheek. Chaste. "I love you." It was a simple declaration from the emotional and sensitive man and a side that others rarely saw nowadays – the fight against the Goa'uld and numerous other warmongering psychopaths had ensured he kept that part of his soul locked down tight, but she knew it was there nonetheless.

She spoke the truth in return. "I love you back, Daniel Jackson, and you know I couldn't have gotten through the last nine months without you."

He reached up to toy with her now loosened hair. "Umm… are you gonna tell Jack that I asked you to marry me?"

She couldn't help but smile. "Well not today, but it might be as well to keep him on his toes." She winked and as she did so, she could feel her cheeks burning with an emotion that she hadn't felt in a long time – pure unbridled joy and hope for the future – a lightness of existence. Even the euphoria of Jake's birth had been tinged with sadness over the fact that he would never meet his father – and now that he was just about to, what point was there in denying her happiness?

As she gazed into Daniel's kind and generous eyes she realized why she had felt conflicted earlier – she had spent so long building up her Naquadah enhanced emotional barriers that she had forgotten that she might be allowed to feel so completely and so freely happy again.

"Are you coming with?" she asked in a whisper.

He reached to stroke her cheek. "No. This is a private moment. But when you're done, I want details," he added.

She grinned. "Yasureyabetacha."

SJSJSJSJSJSJ


	3. Chapter 3

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

Upon re-entering the infirmary, she would have known where Jack was even if she hadn't been talking to him five minutes previously because he was arguing with Carolyn. A red faced male nurse exited from the privacy screen and stomped by, rolling his eyes at her as he did so.

Ah. Back to normal? Maybe not, but then what was 'normal' around here anyway?

Deep breath, Sam you can do it. She checked her son; he was awake but content and slightly sleepy with that wide-eyed look that made children look so wise. Perfect.

Nearing the curtain Sam could hear the discussion more clearly: "I don't care, General; if you want to hold your son then I insist on a mask and gloves – it's to protect him as much you… thank you"

Ah. He must be complying. Kudos to the doctor.

_Father and son reunion, only a moment away._

She pushed through the curtain and this elicited a sharp reaction from Jack as his head jerked awkwardly around and he visibly winced.

It didn't faze him one iota, however. His gloved hands raised in greeting for the second time today, only it wasn't Sam that he wanted to pull close and express his love and joy to. Placing her son into his father's arms was the sweetest, most life-affirming moment of her existence so far, and as far as life-affirming moments went, she'd had a few.

A simple, "Hello little buddy," as Jack raised Jake's face to his own was enough to ensure stinging tears to form in her own eyes and Carolyn to beat a hasty retreat.

"Sam." His eyes were shining at her over the top of his surgical mask as he hugged his child's body close. "What's his name?"

"OH!" What an idiot! She had neglected to tell her own baby's father such an important piece of his identity! Reaching over to loosen the blanket around the child's face, she cleared her throat.

"Jack, meet Jonathan Jacob Carter O'Neill, born at a quarter after four am on November 5th, 9lbs exactly."

The raised eyebrows said it all.

She squirmed a little under his scrutiny. "Yeah well, I'm not big on the 'naming after a dead relative' thing, but after the two men that I loved the most, there just wasn't any other choice."

"But I'm not dead." She could swear she could detect a smirk beneath the pale blue mask material.

Her cheeks burned again and she straightened the bedclothes. "No. No, you're not."

He turned his face back to his son's. "Hi, J.J."

"Ahh, he gets 'Jake'." But as Sam fixed her eyes upon the gentle scene before her, she somehow knew that her child's pet name would be forever changed.

She cleared her throat. "There was an issue with having him acknowledged as an 'O'Neill' – the date for registering his birth was last week; I have to prove paternity first. But I have an attorney assisting me; I thought that's what you would want." The name of that attorney stung her thoughts but she squashed it back; a quick fumble with Dave Pryce was the last thing she wanted to remember right now.

Jack was feeling their child's fingers and rubbing his narrow little feet. Her vision smeared and she contemplated her sneakers.

"You look so good."

Jack was obviously head over heels in love with his son - until Sam realized that he was talking to her again. She lifted her eyes to meet his appreciative gaze. "Seriously, I can't believe you had a baby two weeks ago; you look fantastic."

As Sam returned the comment with an unabashed grin, some very strong longings took hold of her heart and she squashed them back as quickly as she could. Now was not the time, but she was grateful for any compliments regarding her post-natal physique even though she had never really been a vain woman.

"Nice hair."

What was it with men and hair? "I was just thinking of having it cut."

Jack shrugged as he turned back to J.J. who was beginning to squirm a little.

"Or maybe not," she added and was amused by the quick glance afforded her. Their son began to whimper. "Hey, what's up?" Jack shifted the baby a little further up his arm so that he was a little more upright and Sam was acutely reminded that he had handled an infant before. J.J. poked his tongue out and began to lick Jack's thumb.

No, surely not already --

"I think he's hungry," Jack clarified.

Sam sighed in exasperation as J.J.'s whimpers morphed into actual crying. "I've just fed him!"

"Are you a hungry little man?" his father soothed. "Here, let me feed him, I'll feed him!"

Sorry to disappoint Pops, Sam began to unbutton her blouse. "You can't - at least until I express."

As Jack handed over their now very much complaining son, he pulled off his mask to reveal a massive grin while Sam parked herself on a nearby infirmary chair and expertly unclipped her nursing bra to encourage J.J. to latch on to an already milk-soaked breast.

When the let down reflex had settled, she glanced at the man before her. The dark circles and taut cheek muscles betrayed pain and exhaustion and she wondered if he'd hung on to consciousness simply to see her – and he had gotten her, plus one.

"You can sleep now," she smiled, "I'm not going anywhere until he's finished." She settled herself further onto the chair as if to reinforce her promise.

Jack's eyelids began to droop and a strand of salt-and-pepper hair fell across his face. "I want to know all about him, I want to know every detail about the nine months I should have been here."

Again she smiled and thought about a certain e-diary that was safely at home on her nightstand. "You will, but now you should get some rest."

"Night," he mumbled.

"Love you," she replied, even though she knew that he was already asleep.

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

The next three days were taken up with Jack being moved to the Academy Hospital's spinal unit and being subjected to many tests.

Sam lost all sense of time as she and J.J. followed him around the institutional-green rooms with well-meaning white coated professionals. Jack and his son didn't seem to be affected by their circadian rhythms as they slept when they felt like it but she on the other hand, began to crave quilts and bubble baths. The cramped put-you-up camp bed (and bassinet borrowed from pediatrics for J.J.) were all very well but she wasn't twenty any more.

At least father and son were getting a chance to bond, and bond in a big way. Jack wanted to hold his son at every possible moment and seemed reluctant to relinquish him so that he could be fed. He had even changed a diaper or two, which he seemed to enjoy and made Sam quip that he must have been hit on the head as well as his ass.

Carolyn Lam was spot-on with her initial appraisal of General O'Neill's injuries. Following X-rays, a CT scan, an MRI and a myelography – an excruciating injection into the spinal cord canal, it was determined that he did indeed have a severely slipped disc in the L4-L5-Sacrum area, just above the tailbone, as Sam discovered. Jack couldn't pee or move his bowels properly and this had caused a nasty bladder infection that had remained untreated while incarcerated. Every day a white-coat with a name tag would come in and stick him with pins, bang his knees with a hammer and scrape the soles of his feet.

_Can you feel that? _

_Can you feel this? _

_What about that? _

Jack mumped about the catheter bag and the anal incontinence, but as the pain relief and antibiotics kicked in, his skin lost the slightly yellow tinge and acquired a much more healthy pallor. Sam hovered in the background while the orthopedic consultants and neurosurgeons wittered on about worst case scenarios and by the end of the third day she'd had enough, let alone Jack.

Mentally, he seemed fine. The Ba'als et al had more or less left him alone in his cell, which was what had prompted him to attempt to MacGyver a vamoose in the first place – earning him the staff weapon injury from a Jaffa who was trying to earn his fifth McDonald's star, according to Jack.

On the first day she called Mark in San Diego and Cassie in Stockholm to let them know the truly miraculous news. Mark 'Oh, God-ed' at her and Cassie cried a bit. Both wanted to come back to Colorado but they'd only just got back from visiting her after J.J. was born so she wouldn't hear of it – there would time enough for celebrations later. At some point, she managed to get a message through to Sara O'Neill. One, to thank her once again for the baby clothes and the lovely 'welcome baby' card and secondly, to inform her that her ex-husband was back from the dead. Again.

In between Jack, insomnia, irregular meals and nursing, she could feel herself losing physical control – and rapidly. She needed a shower and fresh clothes and was fervently grateful that the hospital kiosk sold feminine hygiene products because she was going through them rapidly.

Salvation came in the form of General George 'I won't take no for an answer, Sam' Hammond, who arrived with an overnight bag, an armful full of _National Geographic_s and a very self-satisfied Daniel Jackson. If Sam had refused any tag team watches with Dr. Smug, she was not about to refuse her former CO. With a tired kiss on Jack's adorably pouting cheek, she gathered her own bag under one arm and her kid under the other. Have kid, will travel. Whatever.

The last conversation she remembered that night after Daniel had driven her home, helped her unpack and microwave her dinner while she fed J.J., was him saying something about lending Jack his camcorder so he could see some 'Fat Sam' shots.

The last thing she saw as she fell into bed was her Sony VAIO e-Diary, still gathering dust where she'd left it on November 4th.

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

For the first time since she became a mother, she was woken by something other than hungry wailing.

Her nightstand hard line phone was shrilling in her ear.

Grabbing it awkwardly, she managed to get the receiver the right way up for her face. "Mmm? 'Lo?"

Next came those immortal words that have absolutely the opposite affect from what they say:

Daniel Jackson's anxious voice. "Sam, I don't want you to worry, but…"

Apparently after an early morning session of physiotherapy, it seemed that the slipped disc in Jack's spinal column had decided to go walkabouts – the surgery that the neurosurgeons were attempting to avoid was now unavoidable.

He was already in surgery.

Crap.

After reassuring Daniel that she was fit enough to drive, she blundered around desperately trying to organize herself only to be waylaid by her son demanding yet another feed. She knew that grabbing an infant from his bed and thrusting a breast at his mouth was really not the way to induce a calm and happy bonding moment and was driven to frustration when her son screamed even louder and kicked away. She had to get going! She had to be at the hospital, not here!

Sam was abruptly overwhelmed with a feeling of entrapment – she stared at this thing that had come into her life and realized with shock that she and he would be bound for the rest of their existence – not just for food, warmth and shelter, but everything.

She would never be allowed to think of herself as her own person; she was now somebody's mother. She could never again jump out of her bed, slap on a bit of mascara and hit the Mall. Someone else was doing her job, a.k.a. her life's work, and the world hadn't come to an end. You can't fit a baby seat to an Indian.

She was suddenly afraid of the screaming child and laid him quickly back in his crib while she scrambled to splash some very cold water on her face.

As if that wasn't enough, someone was ringing her doorbell!

Ignoring the wails of protest, she marched past her kid, stormed to her front door and wrenched it open, remembering at the last moment that she was clad only in her pink'n'fluffy Hello Kitty bathrobe.

The last person in the world she expected to see was standing on her front step with a raised eyebrow and a very cool line in headgear.

"TEAL'C!" she yelled, before wrapping him in a massive hug.

Ten minutes later, all was calm in the Carter household. After a 'There is no need to explain, Samantha', he presented her with an extra large Subway roll with roasted vegetables, a caffeine-free soda and two small bottles of something bearing encouraging green labels with trees on and – teats. Baby milk. Manufactured baby milk. Waving away Sam's concerns, he reassured her that Young Jonathan Jacob would indeed be satisfied and her breastmilk supply would not be compromised – 'top ups' assisted the successful establishment of breastfeeding rather than hindered it. He knew this to be true because he'd seen it proven on Oprah.

Sam watched in wonderment as he strode to her bedroom, (he'd been in her room, like twice before?) scooped up her child and managed to silence him in a few short seconds. Wailing was replaced with contented sucking as Teal'c sauntered back out of her boudoir to settle himself on the sofa with her son plus bottle in one beefy hand and the TV remote in the other.

As she exited from her shower, silence still reigned and Sam was working out how much Nanny T might charge per the hour.

After drying her hair, which actually took less time now it was longer, she finished dressing in peace and was lacing up her left sneaker when her nightstand home phone rang again.

Suddenly, inexplicably, she couldn't move.

The shrill tone bored into her brain making little gray worms grow. She had chosen the phone specifically for its loud and annoying ringtones so that if the SGC were trying to get hold of after another all-nighter, she would be ready to respond to the next life-threatening problem.

Life-threatening. And still she couldn't move. Checking the digital clock next to the phone, it was 1036 hours - 47 minutes had passed since Daniel called.

The ringing stopped.

She was such a damn coward! With a shaky hand she reached for the receiver to dial last number call back when she became aware of a muted conversation emanating from her kitchen.

"Teal'c, you're an angel," she muttered as she realized he had picked up the extension.

Edging further into the hallway, she acknowledged the irony of eavesdropping on a telephone call that she couldn't bring herself to answer. She heard the call being ended and had a sudden and overwhelming desire to run into her room and hide under the bedcovers.

Too late. There was Teal'c's handsome face staring kindly back at her, one tree trunk arm still hefting her son who was now sucking his fingers.

"It may be prudent to collect any essentials necessary for a short hospital visit. General O'Neill is out of surgery and Daniel Jackson has asked me to tell you that 'the old windbag can move his toes.'"

He nodded at her expression of joy. "I suggest we make haste; your son has consumed two bottles of Grandma's Organix Breastmilk formula and I suspect he is still hungry!"

She made haste. Like STRAIGHTAWAY.

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

The reunion of SG-1 was a muted but heartfelt affair, sited as it was in the middle of a hospital with one tired and hurting General. Even Cameron Mitchell made an appearance before excusing himself; this was something he was a part of but was respectful enough to let the old friends catch up.

Jack's surgery was pronounced a cautious success. He would need several weeks – perhaps months – of physiotherapy, chiropractic intervention and a phrase to strike fear into the heart of any nurse who had cared for Mr. Grumpy before: bed rest.

The fact that he could flex his feet a little, extend his toes if he tried hard enough and recovered much (although not all) of the sensation below his groin was the best news anyone could hope for; there was an excellent chance he would recover full locomotory ability. The catheter and the diaper stayed put however, much to his chagrin.

Jack's sleeping patterns were still shot to hell but Sam had learned her lesson. She would stay at the hospital until 1600 hours and then she was going home and taking J.J. with her; she would be back the next morning at 1000.

Nobody disagreed.

Jack had pain relief, snacks, Kool-Aid, cable TV and video of Fat Sam. He could do without the real thing for while.

George Hammond drove her home while 'T' remained with Jack to take the swing shift. Her collection of baby accoutrements didn't faze Gen. George at all; he unloaded it and packed it all away like the seasoned veteran that he was. Then he snagged a pizza place leaflet from behind her phone and called for a large-with-extra-olives, with fries and slaw on the side. General Hammond knew what her favorite pizza topping was? Her life was too surreal. He paid for it all with his credit card and refused to take a dime as he headed out to 'leave her in peace'.

As they hugged goodbye, he held her for a moment longer.

"Your daddy would have been so proud," he said into her ear. With an abrupt pat on the back and much swallowing and nodding, he rushed through the November rain back to his SUV. With a cheery honk on his horn, his taillights were gone into the gloom.

Samantha Carter had the best friends in the world.

Later after both she and J.J. had eaten their fill, she tucked her son up in his bassinet and sung him a lullaby for the first time in days. He stared at her wide-eyed and sleepy, and the thought of that morning's behavior slammed back. How ashamed she was now; how could she even think of hurting her child? So what that she was needed - and she would be needed until her last breath. If J.J. was the reward, who was she to question the union of ova and sperm all those months ago?

She could stir soup, talk on the phone and breastfeed at the same time. She was a mom.

And she had a future with her baby's father.

Take that, Oprah.

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

The next morning when her phone rang, she was sprawled out on her lounge carpet playing 'Chase the Mig' with J.J. Settling her son on his playmat (Kick'n'Play, of course) she snagged the cordless handset and inwardly congratulated herself for remembering both her first and last name. "Samantha Carter."

"Good morning, sexy ass."

Ha. "Daniel, I told you to stop calling me that, Jack'll be so mad!"

The responding chuckle broke the game. "How ya doin'?"

"Not too bad. You?" She hitched over to J.J. who was trying to lick a red flower on his play mat. "Hey, sweetie, that's not mommy."

She heard Jack chuckle. "Excuse me?"

"It's your son; he's fixated on nipples." She shook a small elephant that Cassie had bought for her nephew before she went back to Stockholm into his eye line.

She would have bet money on his next comment. "That's my boy!"

"Hmmm," she grumbled. A nipple obsession was what got her knocked up in the first place. "What are you doing?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Are you changing the subject?"

Damn him. "Yes!"

It was so good to hear him laugh again.

J.J.'s movements were becoming heavier – he was falling over into sleep. She loved the fact that she was beginning to understand her baby without the need for words. They had a language all their own. "I take it you're feeling better?"

"I worship at the altar of Demerol."

Ah. Pain relief was a subject close to her heart. "Tell me about it."

"Actually, I'm watching you."

"You are?!" She glanced around the room. "Sam-Cam?" She wouldn't put it past him.

She could hear him catch his breath. "Don't make me laugh! Giggling is bad for me. I've got Dr. Dan's camcorder."

Fat Sam Footage! "Oh no-"

"Don't you 'oh no' me; I'm lovin' this."

She sighed; well, she could hardly snatch it out of his hands, could she? "What trimester?"

"Third."

"Oh, crap."

She heard more laughing. "Jack, I was as a big as a house!"

"Sam, you were beautiful, really beautiful and you still are. This pregnancy thing – it's a good look on you."

She swallowed. Her son's eyes were narrow slits and his breathing was evening out.

"You never were very good at accepting compliments, were you?" He breathed into her silent response. "I was watching footage of your last sonogram earlier. I can't believe Daniel didn't figure out that J.J. was a boy."

She snickered at that. "I think he thought it was a leg."

"Our child has three legs?"

She was afraid her giggling would wake up J.J. "And the obstetrician was obsessed with the placenta, wasn't she?"

"Oh, yeah! She went on and on about it."

"Yes! She kept going on about how well I was feeding my baby. And let me tell you, when you see that thing up close and personal-"

"Weird?"

Too true. "Well, I was prepared to give birth to a baby, but they never told me I'd give birth to an alien right after, and you know I've met a few."

There followed chuckling followed by cursing.

Her son was now completely asleep. She could vacuum up his diaper while he was wearing it and he wouldn't wake. "Still in pain?"

"Yeah, it's not too bad, more like pressure. It's the boredom that's getting to me now."

Snatching a light blanket from the sofa she tucked it round her child's body. "Give it a chance, you only had surgery yesterday."

"It's gonna be a tough few weeks."

"For you or the nursing staff?" Her leg was beginning to cramp so she shuffled over to an armchair and plunked her ass.

"Daniel said you kept a diary of your pregnancy?"

Her hand stilled from where it was rubbing a leg muscle. It was phrased as a question - thus required a response. "I did." Well, she couldn't lie to him, could she?

"I'd like to read it." All levity had gone from his voice. Serious!Jack was something she found difficult to cope with.

A niggling headache was beginning to form behind her eyes. "I'll bring it over later."

"I'd like that. Listen I have to go. Das Kommendant has appeared with tubing and you don't want a play-by-play."

She laughed. "No thanks!"

"See you later?"

"Yup." She glanced at J.J., snoring away on his mat. "After lunch?"

"Yasureyabetacha. Don't forget the diary."

"I'll bring it."

And she would. After she'd edited it first.

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

As it was, J.J. slept less time than Sam expected and she ended up in a rush as usual. She really wanted to take time to read the whole e-Diary through but in the end she settled for burning entries May 14th 2007 through to July 6th 2007 onto a CD. With her fingers poised over the keyboard, she muttered "What the hell," and burned the rest up to and including August 24th. She would decide what to do about David Pryce later and all that would surely keep Jack occupied for a while.

Stashing her spare laptop along with all of J.J.'s paraphernalia into her trusty Volvo, she drove through the mizzly Colorado rain that was threatening to turn to sleet. She knew it was chilly outside because her dashboard readout told her, but darn, she felt hot. Her face was so flushed! Guilty conscience she supposed. Well, she had started the damn diary in case Jack returned and now that he was here, he should read it!

Parking at the hospital was its usual nightmare and as she waited patiently for a senior citizen to back oh-so-slowly out of a parking space, she mused at how quickly humans could get used to anything. Her life had been turned upside down on its head and here she was, coping with a baby, visiting her sick – boyfriend – and parallel parking. She just hoped Jack would be in a good mood.

He was. And he looked clean and rested, his still long hair bunched at the neck in a short ponytail.

"Sexy ass!" was his greeting as she blundered through the door of his private hospital room, pushing a mountain of stuff in a stroller – her child was in there somewhere.

"Ignore him, he has no carnal knowledge of me whatsoever," she reassured the candy striper who was filling Jack's water jug. 'I'm his sister."

"And that's my kid," said Jack proudly, wiggling his fingers at J.J. who dribbled back in reply.

The candy striper fled.

"Jack, you're incorrigible," she said in exasperation as her hands shook trying to get the stroller harness undone. "Is it cold in here?" Sam asked as she played pass-the-parcel with their son.

He hefted the child easily and shifted his legs under the blankets to accommodate his son's small body – he was obviously recovering a great deal of movement. "I'm fine, but hospitals are always over heated. Hey!" He smiled at J.J. who had grabbed his thumb and was hanging on for dear life. "Look at this!"

"Don't get excited, he thinks you're dinner," Sam mused as she began to divest the poor stroller of stuff. "But don't be fooled, I fed him before I left."

Jack was grinning at her.

"What?" her eyebrows furrowed.

"Nuthin'

She waved a finger. "I've seen that look before."

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

"But I can't place it." She admitted, amused by the enigmatic smirk. She turned to free her laptop from its attaché bag. "I have something for you."

It was his turn to be perplexed. Setting up the portable computer on the patient over-bed table, she depressed the on button and waved a disk under his nose. "My life as a stupidly pregnant person." Ignoring his beaming smile, she ejected the CD-Rom tray and inserted the disk. The processor whirred while the Word application booted up and the screen changed to the familiar white-headed-with-blue layout.

Writing appeared.

_#_

_May 14__th__ 2007_

_Okay, Jack._

_So Daniel said I should do this, so blame him._

_#_

She swiveled the screen towards Jack. "There you go. It's pretty simple-"

"-I doubt that." He interjected.

"It's pretty simple to follow," she repeated, with an admonishing glance that had no fire to it.

He pulled the table towards him and squinted to fixate on the script, using the touchpad to scroll down.

_#_

_I thought I'd try again but I'm having a real big problem getting the words down – but I guess if you were actually here, I would still have an issue with communication. Of course, if we got close, you'd soon figure it out faster than light speed._

_I still can't say it._

#

He was looking at her now.

That deep intense stare that could reduce the enemy to gibbering wrecks and her into bed before the beer got warm.

Sam cleared her throat. "There's quite a bit more."

Jack moved J.J. to a more comfortable position so that the baby could see the display. "I'll bet."

Sam grabbed her purse. "I'll get coffee."

"You're drinking coffee?" He indicated their sleepy son.

Biting a lip she headed for the door. "It's a euphemism," she called behind her and the last thing she heard as the door swung shut was:

"Gotcha"

She sat with him while he paged through the first part of her diary, taking time out to flip through a _Scientific American_ she purchased from the hospital bookstore, feed J.J., share contraband fries and a diet soda with Jack and feed J.J. again.

He stopped reading several times and asked her questions. She answered as well as she could remember and took comfort in his concern.

"Louis Ferretti died."

"And Paul Garcia. I thought you knew." Hadn't Daniel told him?

He nodded, his expression dull. "Seeing it in black and white hammers it home."

Jack wanted to know every detail about the amniocentesis and Sam did her best to recall those worrying days that she put behind her. They discussed what might have happened if J.J. had been diagnosed with Down's syndrome, and to her intense relief, he agreed with her that he would have fought for the best for their son also.

He also wanted to know if the banana and mango fetish had continued post partum. Mercifully, it hadn't.

At 1700, when Jack had got as far as the entry for Father's Day, she called it quits. Buckling J.J. back into the stroller and gathering up her belongings, she leaned over the medical equipment (thankfully diminishing by the day) to plant her usual goodbye kiss on his cheek, but at the last moment he turned his head and their lips met. Closed-eyed and soft-mouthed, they savored the experience, the first since fate had sought to intervene in their relationship.

Sam felt Jack's hand on the back of her head, drawing her in further and she responded in kind. Her own fingers found the band securing his hair and she tugged on it, releasing the ponytail so that she could feel the reality of her lover and all that he had lived through without her.

He may not have complete control over his legs, but there was nothing wrong with his hands – they caressed and kneaded, roaming with the practiced ease of a man in familiar territory. By the time they reached her chest, she was having difficulty focusing her attention and was pretty sure the moaning noises were coming from her.

He broke the kiss to mutter, "Oh man." Cupping her milk-filled breasts through her T-shirt, his appreciation was evident. "They're so heavy," he said in awe. "You're gonna nurse for the next decade, right?"

She laughed softly into his shoulder and then sucked in a breath as his thumb rubbed over an erect nipple. A sudden cramp gripped her groin.

"Uhhhhhh.." she broke the embrace to regain her composure, hands on her hips to get her breathing back to normal.

Jack looked on with worry. "Hey, you okay?" He reached up to lay a concerned hand on her shoulder.

She was; the pain was receding. "Yes, I'm fine; I'm just tired."

"But-" he began to protest.

She interrupted and pulled herself upright. "Post natal afterpains. I read they might get worse before they get better. I'll get some Tylenol from the pharmacy, no sweat."

"Sorry," she added ruefully, aware that the tender encounter had been ruined.

Jack smiled. "Oh, phshaw, Carter. There's plenty of time now."

And there was, there really was.

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	4. Chapter 4

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

J.J. was fretful that night, or maybe it had been the morning. Sam's night of broken sleep had served to see her blundering into her closet thinking it was her bathroom and she had woken with a stunning headache and a queasy stomach. Leaving her kid (thankfully) sleeping in his crib, she was perched on her breakfast bar stool and half way through a slice of dry toast when her kitchen phone rang.

"I've just read about Sara and Mark," said the voice.

"Morning, Jack. How are you?" Sam abandoned the toast as a lost cause.

"Better than you from the sound of it." Ahh, Jack and subtlety – go together like birds of a feather.

"Mmm," was all she could manage – why wasn't the Tylenol kicking in?

"I just wanted you to know I think you're amazing. How is Mark with you now?"

"Okay. Fine. Pleased about J.J. and I called him to say you had been found." Was she so exhausted that she couldn't even manage a simple conversation?

Jack's corresponding non-committal noises gave her the hint.

"Sorry I'm not being more communicative." Sam regarded the toast before her; perhaps she ought to at least try to eat something else.

"Rough night?" His concern sounded so much like Daniel for a moment.

"Yup." Damn; now the afterpains were kicking in again.

"Well, whadya say I blow this white dress outfit and bunk with you?"

At least that made her laugh – although it hurt to do so.

"By the way, I can totally believe McKay's father was a gynecologist."

Sam twisted the phone cable in her fingers; she really needed to get on before J.J. awoke. "Yeah. He saved our lives, Jack, all three of us."

"I realize that; I'll talk to him when he's back on leave from-" He didn't have to finish. She knew where and could even figure out through her fuzzy-headed haze why he couldn't say it.

"Anyway, I'm finished with this disk – did you say there was more?"

Her heart sank; she hadn't had time to look at the last half of her diary, let alone think about how she was going to broach the subject of adulterous liaisons.

Disconsolate wails sounded through the baby monitor.

"I'll bring it later. Sorry, I have to go. His Majesty is awake and vocal, bye for now!" She hung up before she realized that he hadn't had a chance to answer. Damn. Another apology owed.

After a rushed breakfast for J.J. and a perfunctory wash for them both, Sam was desperately trying to get her laptop to play ball; her head was pounding by then. "Now is NOT a good time to go on the fritz," she hissed. At last it seemed to copy the edited version that she wanted, although she had also managed to reproduce the full diary in error; her life and loves in small shiny, tell-tale circles.

The light from both reflected at the back of her retinas. What version should she give him?

With J.J. grumbling in her ear, her stinging breasts and an undercarriage that felt like it was going to leap up and strangle her; she'd decide later.

SJSJSJSJSJSJ

By the time she parked and negotiated the now familiar way to Jack's hospital bed, she felt awful; there was no doubt she was coming down with something; probably a cold by the way she felt, hold and cold, shivering and sweating and everything hurt now. Why hadn't she stayed at home today?

Then she saw just how much Jack was pleased to see her; she had forgotten how dreary hospital stays could be and she felt instantly guilty. Sam watched him cuddling their son and turned to face the relentless rain pounding the windows. He deserved so much more than the couple of hours a day that she afforded him – well, maybe more than a couple, but it still wasn't enough.

It was never enough. She wasn't enough.

Two disks. Two versions.

One choice. Tactical or moral? Close the iris on the coward Alar? Shoot to kill the za'tarc masquerading as Martouf? Leave Fifth behind or not?

He had a choice once. _"Just go will you?" _And he stayed. He had taught her loyalty.

It would be December tomorrow. Thus beginith the season of goodwill, maybe Jack would show her that when he had read the truth.

It didn't take him long to swap J.J. (asleep again; she would pay later) for the laptop. The hum of the processor pricked at her brain and she fished in her purse for Tylenol

"Damn things," Jack grumbled as he snatched up his new acquisition; a pair of horn rimmed reading glasses courtesy of ophthalmology – though Sam found with his longer hair and bespectacled appearance, that this did funny things to her already-churning insides. He cleared his throat to read aloud:

_Saturday, August 25th 2007 – Mitchell Homestead, Auburn, Kansas 1015_

_..and about to hit the road._

_Hey! I got to sleep in! I woke at 0930! Just outside my room was a tray of breakfast things and a note to say that Wendy and Frank have gone into town for supplies but wanted to leave me sleeping. I've had a shower and now I'm off exploring. The land here is mercifully flat (hills are tough when your lungs are being pushed up into your shoulders!), the roads are quiet and it's a gorgeous day!_

_TTYL!_

_S_

_X_

He paused to raise his eyebrows over the top of his glasses. Oh boy; the guise of an absent minded professor with the ability to dispatch an enemy with his bare hands in seconds was enough to make her knees go weak.

Damn; no Tylenol – surely she hadn't finished the packet she bought yesterday already? No wonder she felt nauseous. With a quick check on J.J., the decision was made and she grabbed her purse, "I need something from the retail pharmacy in the lobby; I'll be back in five; don't read on without me as I need to be with you so that we can talk about it, okay?"

She didn't wait for a reply as she took herself and her throbbing head past the nurse's station and along the corridor to the elevator –

- only to walk right past it. Her head was pounding, her chest was tight and she could see properly out of only one eye. Retracing her steps on wobbly legs, it was all Sam could do to haul her ass into the elevator cab and press the button for what she hoped was the ground floor.

As the cab lurched downward, she knew something was very wrong; the abdominal pain she was fighting was not normal and with horror she realized that she was bleeding heavily and that her sanitary protection was wholly inadequate; she needed to get to the ladies room ASAP.

The elevator cheerfully announced the ground floor, but Sam barely heard it. Like some distorted _Dr. Kildare_ cliché, spots were swimming before her eyes; she had to get help and fast. She got through the sliding doors and tried to speak – nothing came out! She needed help! The pain was unbearable, but she couldn't work out what was actually hurting.

J.J.! She needed to get back to J.J.! That was what was wrong, she turned to find the elevator again when she bumped into a misshapen blob.

"Hey! Watch it, lady!" came the rebuke as her world dipped and spun.

She knew she vomited on her sneakers.

Daylight.

Where was her son?

Her child?

Tall blue uniform ahead!

Air Force!

He would help her.

Lurching.

People staring.

The uniform turned.

"Dad, " she said before all was silent and black.

SJSJSJSJSJ

Sam became aware of a dim light and... hissing. There was hissing in her ear. Trying to open her eyes required a monumental effort. She was horizontal – there were dark windows off to her left – and swallowing hurt.

"Ah, good evening, Colonel Carter; glad to see you're back with us."

Carolyn Lam's voice.

There was only one question; "My baby?"

"Beside you and shh, he's sleeping." Jack's voice! Turning her head was a slow process, but there he was; in a wheelchair beside her hospital bed – and J.J. was nestled in the crook of her right arm. Jack nodded to the sleeping child. "Carolyn's idea; he wouldn't settle so she suggested we lay him next to you and it worked. Aye Carumba!"

Dark windows. It was late! Sam struggled to sit upright and failed. "I have to feed him!"

Carolyn was at her side in an instant, hands pressing on her patient's shoulders and rearranging IV lines. A red drip. Blood. Hopefully going in. Something was irritating her nose.

"Relax, Carter, he's been fed; I fed him," said Pops, not without a distinct note of pride.

Oxygen; that was what was irritating her nose; she was receiving oxygen through a nasal cannula and by the way her throat hurt, she wondered if she'd been intubated.

Jack continued, "Grandma Organix breastmilk formula – Teal'c swears by it and he should know. A midwife will be along soon to help you express and I'll feed him again later; it's mom's night off, okay? Hey! Don't fiddle with that!" He swatted her hand away from where it was touching the oxygen line.

Sam's vision was clearing a little. "What happened?" she croaked.

"You passed out in the lobby at the feet of a security guard - it was all very dramatic-" Jack began to explain.

Carolyn interrupted, "You had a small amount of retained placenta that was adhered to the uterine wall causing hemorrhaging and infection – weren't you concerned about the amount of pain and post partum bleeding you must have been experiencing?"

Her head was beginning to clear. "I thought it was normal – remember, I've never had a baby before." Perhaps checking symptoms on the Internet was not such a good idea after all.

Carolyn frowned and pulled the patient file from the receptacle at the end of the bed. "Well, you also managed to compound the problem by picking up a low grade pulmonary infection; hence the oxygen – your blood gasses were all over the place during surgery."

She paused while Sam tried to take in the amount of machinery surrounding her. "Don't worry about the oh-two; it's just a precaution – the anti-biotics should clear any nasties up within a few days and I've prescribed one with no contra-indicators for nursing mothers. Anyway, despite the drama, you'll be fine, the surgeon was happy otherwise – getting pregnant again shouldn't be a problem."

"I'd rather stick needles in my eyes," said Sam, with feeling.

Dr. Lam smiled and tucked the file back in its holder. "Well, I'm sure you think that now, but perhaps you'll feel differently in a year or so. Anyway, I'm all done here, get some rest and we'll talk again in the morning." Sam didn't miss the pointed look aimed at the back of Jack's head as she headed out the door.

Jack and Sam regarded each other over their sleeping child.

"You're sitting up," said Sam, lamely.

He tapped the arms of his wheelchair, "Yup; got wheels." Jack paused for a moment, as if considering whether she was strong enough to talk. "I've been talking to the orthopedic gurus. I need physio and so on, but there's no reason why that can't be done at an outpatient clinic; I want to come home and help you with J.J. I should be able to get about on my own soon and all this running to and fro after me – enough already." He tucked a stray gray lock behind an ear.

Sam fiddled with a piece of wrinkled sheet. "I- I sometimes think that I'm so busy caring for J.J., I don't have time to love him."

Jack was silent for a moment. "Sara said something similar when Charlie was little. I wasn't around for them much; I want to be there for you and J.J. That is, if you'll have me."

A sudden thought announced its unwelcome presence in Sam's mind. He obviously hadn't read the last part of the diary. Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn.

She truly did not feel up to discussing this now, but really, she had no choice, did she?

The sheet corner was completely twisted around her fingers and was actually making the IV port taped to the back of her left hand uncomfortable. "Jack, I need to talk to you about something. While I was pregnant, I… I met someone-"

"-David Pryce. I know, I read your diary. ALL of it. I had to do something while you were being all dramatic in surgery. And I talked to him on the phone. He seemed an okay guy."

Sam was convinced that she must be suffering some sort of reaction to the hallucinogenic drugs they must have pumped her with. "You talked to him?"

Jack's eyes flicked to the silent EKG monitor – her heart rate must have gone up. Guilt can do that to a person.

"Yup. Carolyn got your purse back from the security guard – he thinks he's some kind of hero, by the way – and we went through to see if there was anything you might need in the way of – never mind – anyway, your cell phone rang and it seemed stupid not to answer it and it was him."

Her thoughts nose-dived.

Jack smiled and continued, as if sensing her discomfort. "He wanted to know whether you were seeking a continuance on the proof of paternity determination – you were supposed to call him back?"

Sam nodded; she had totally forgotten.

"Basically, you don't have to worry; I explained who I was, and me being actually alive speeds the application somewhat. He's having his secretary fax the paperwork to the legal eagles at the CMC and Hank Landry will bring it all over tomorrow for me to sign; by noon J.J. will officially be an 'O'Neill'." He smiled that deep cheek crease grin that she adored and then she didn't know what to say, so opted to cry a little instead. Small track-type tears that slid out of the corner of her eyes and dribbled into the hair near her ears. "I don't deserve you," she whispered, her emotions reeling.

"Hey, hey… none of that." Jack found a Kleenex from somewhere and was wiping away the evidence of her gratitude. He grabbed the bed rails and used them to pull the wheelchair closer. "Don't you think I would have wanted you to find happiness without me? And J.J. – a child needs parents even if they are not biologically related. Also, I happen to think Daniel would have made a great dad."

He smiled at her realization. "Don't worry, I talked to him too, mostly to reassure him his family jewels would stay intact and I spoke to Mark and Cassie on the phone. Everyone sends their love and best wishes, yadda, yadda. Oh! Siler and Harriman called – they didn't propose to you as well, did they?"

"No!" Okay, that came out with a little more force than she had intended.

Jack chuckled. "Just checking." He reached over the upraised bedrail to check on J.J. and his hand lingered near hers. His thumbs were smoother than she remembered as he rubbed the back of wrist in slow circles. "I can't pretend I wasn't surprised about Pryce, but he did take advantage when you had already told him no. It actually upset me more about how much you beat yourself up about it."

"I had a lot of time to think when you were in recovery," he explained in response to her raised eyebrows.

J.J. shuffled a little in his sleep and his mouth began to purse and relax in turn. Small fists balled at either side of his face. The parents took a moment to regard their beautiful child.

Sam let the sensations wash over her, reveling in the quiet time, despite the soreness that was beginning to nag. Finally, Jack spoke again. "I can only begin to imagine what you were going through; expecting our baby when you must have thought that I was dead. You are worthy of so much Sam. You deserve to love and be loved."

She stared. It wasn't possible, surely?

"What?" asked Jack, pulling his chin back in query.

Sam blinked a couple of times to clear her vision and her mind. "My dad… my dad said that to me once."

He seemed to relax. "Yeah, well, ol' Jacob and I actually saw eye-to-eye on quite a few issues, especially ones regarding you."

Oh, did they now? Sam turned her hand so that their palms were touching. "He also said it was time to let go of the things that were preventing me from finding happiness." She neglected to mention that it was actually a contusion-induced figment of her imagination that had told her that - or of the searing kiss with his hallucination that came later.

"And?"

"And I'm glad I didn't." She smiled back, the first genuine expression of happiness that she had felt in a long time. Maybe this mismatched, ill-fated relationship with all its misunderstandings, foibles and history could work?

Jack sat back to appraise her fully. "Sam, do you want to go back to work?"

Huh? She wasn't expecting that. "Yes, I do." And she did, she really did. She couldn't wait to get back to her doohickeys and her lab and the buzz.

But…

"Not for a while, however, and then only part-time and after that I'll see how I feel."

He nodded in total agreement. "Well, I don't. I'm way too old for this kinda crap." He tapped his wheelchair again. "How would you feel about me staying at home to look after J.J. as far as mommy's milk expressing holds out? I could be your home help hippy." He shook his spiky mullet at her.

She couldn't keep the grin off her face. "Perfect."

He was on a roll now and held her hand a little tighter. "I'm not sure about all this PC business of 'partner' or 'father of my child' and so help me; I'm way too old to be a 'boyfriend'."

Okay, she'd buy that. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"Husband."

SJSJSJSJSJSJSJ

Daniel was as relaxed as he had been for many weeks – months, even and he kicked off his sandals to revel in the verdant lawn that covered most of the O'Neill's back yard and tried to steady his camcorder to record an elusive bird that was clinging to a well-stocked feeder. How relieved he was that this pretty little blue-green planet was still turning and had not been blasted, overthrown or ripped bare of her wonderful, fragile existence. The Earth had withstood two major offensives by the now defunct bad guys of the galaxy, the Ori. Nasty little buggers He felt so proud to part of the team that had stopped the murderous régime from taking hold although sorry that the two people the planet had to thank the most would remain safely anonymous, at least for now. Sam's ingenuity, Jack's resourcefulness and the combination of them and the earthwide teams had successfully averted a massacre of catastrophic proportions.

And he had come to their house for a barbeque with their many friends. His life was weird. And he loved it.

Laughing caught his attention and he spun his mini-DV to focus on the source of the noise; the man (thankfully bereft of the ponytail he had sported for a while) was blowing raspberries on his squirming son's tummy followed by the inevitable; "AGAIN!" and the woman smiling beside them. Jack reached down to pull his laughing wife's top up to perform the same on her stomach – quite something now that Sam was seven months pregnant and quite frankly gorgeous.

The baby was entirely planned and both were overjoyed when the O'Neill super-sperm worked its prompt and accurate magic with Naquadah tipped warheads (Sam's words, not Jack's) and to discover that the baby was a girl. There were also some indicators that their daughter had Down's syndrome, but Sam had decided that she could not go through any invasive diagnostic procedures again and after a long and private discussion, Jack was more than happy to go along with her; external scans would have to suffice until the baby was born. Daniel was convinced the parents would face the future and whatever it would bring in the way they always had; with resilience and hope…and just a little bit of mutual hero-worship.

They had already named their child, adamant that although her brother bore a solid family name, their daughter would have a name entirely her own and would not be named after any friend, relative or hallucination, living, dead or transitory. Eva Margaret was already very much loved.

Giggling from Sam broke his thoughts – Jack had relinquished his fidgeting son to the sand boxand was now kissing the skin of Sam's swollen stomach while she tried to bat him away with futile flapping. The camcorder's viewfinder caught Jack's 'No giggling!' admonishment and then - the most personal of looks lingered between them, as if a remembrance of things past had been voiced. The couple moved in for an intense kiss, oblivious to the halted conversation and grins of their friends. As the embrace continued, Daniel found it amusing that Jack and Sam seemed to enjoy catching up on the many years of hiding their love, both to others and to themselves. Beginning to feel like a voyeur, he switched off the digital camera, tucked it back in its case and slipped into the seat next to Teal'c who offered him a knowing smile and a cold beer.

He sipped at the cold liquid, watching J.J. playing with his Aunty Cassie and her new boyfriend amongst the buckets and spades, and he remembered the first time he had held Jonathan Jacob Carter O'Neill. He had gazed into the child's eyes then and saw the embodiment of his friends' love and hope.

Some might have called him fanciful, just as they had many years ago when he pronounced that the pyramids had been built by aliens from outer space.

Looking at the tender scene before him, he felt rather smug that it was proven he was right all along on both counts.

Love.

It's the thing that carries the hope.

SJSJSJSJSJ

The End!


End file.
